Flowers in a False Spring
by Ellie Roo
Summary: The Tully sisters were raised to marry into the proudest houses of Westeros. But war and peace can unseat the best-laid plans of men. And women. Many characters from ASOIAF as teenagers. AU starting in Robert's Rebellion.
1. Chapter 1

Lysa Arryn, as she had been called for these few weeks, gazed out a window in the Maiden Tower. The household of Jon Arryn had moved back to the Eyrie from the Gates of the Moon the year before — the year that was now being called "the year of the false spring."

The Vale would have been an especially beautiful place in the peak of summer. But the warm winds had not lasted, and ice was crystalizing once again on the mountains. Instead of lingering on the fields and farms of The Vale, Lysa's thoughts turned instead to the Sky Cells. For centuries prisoners had flung themselves from the heights of the Eyrie rather than face another moment in that windy, cold prison. At these heights, the wind could talk to you, and Lysa was beginning to understand what it might be saying.

Her elderly husband and his few remaining teeth were waging war against King Aerys. A few months prior, Jon Arryn had secured The Vale at the Battle of Gulltown, and was now marching south with Ned Stark's Northmen. On their way, the two men at arms stopped at Lysa's childhood home at Riverrun and married the two Tully sisters.

As a girl, Lysa spent hours alone lying in the green fields of the Riverlands dreaming of her wedding day to a handsome lord. Those dreams had turned to ash long before she laid eyes on Jon Arryn. In the months before she left Riverrun, her dreams only showed the face of Petyr and their son. So when the proud Lord Arryn showed up, Lysa thought he was about as good as any other man her wise, cruel father could force upon her.

On her wedding day, Jon Arryn gave her a brooch with a diamond falcon, the sigil of House Arryn. "My house and my honor are yours, now and forever," he said as he placed the gift on the table and knelt before her, which took some effort on the part of the old man. Lysa reminded herself that Lord Arryn had been married twice before, and wondered if he staged this scene for his previous lady wives. When he kissed her on their wedding night, his clean-shaven face still felt scratchy, and he tasted of tar. At least Lysa had to acknowledge that he had both the decency and good sense not to comment on her maidenhead.

Her sister Catleyn, on the other hand, married the younger Stark brother. He was not as handsome as his hero brother, but he was young and strong all the same. On their wedding day, Lysa looked on her sister with envy that was tempered by a sense of inevitability. Of course Cat was the luckier one. It was always thus.

"My lady," one of Lysa's handmaidens approached her, "a raven from your lord husband."

"Dark wings, dark words," Lysa murmured her mother's phrase without thinking as she opened the letter.

 _My lady,_

 _I regret to inform you that your brother by marriage and my fosterling son, Eddard Stark, is dead. I keep your sister in my thoughts during these troubled times._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Jon Arryn_


	2. Chapter 2

Catelyn sat at her needlework in her childhood bedroom. She was still in Riverrun when the news of her new husband's death reached her. Catelyn had looked down but didn't cry as her father told her how Stark had fought bravely before being brought down by a Dornish lord. Ned Stark was a good boy, a strong boy, but very much a boy. A stronger Stark warrior had already lost his life in the south, why should Ned be any different? In a way, Catelyn had to admit, she had been expecting this news since she said her vows.

She mourned for her husband, such as he was, but one night does not a marriage make. She had cried herself dry for Brandon. She had cried herself dry for the Tully bannermen put to the sword by her father for supporting the King. She had played with their children as a girl, and now her beloved father burned their towns to ash. She had nothing leftover now for her husband of a day. Her noble house's words – Family, duty, honor – could mean something very different than what she understood as a girl.

"Cat! Cat! Cat!" Her brother Edmure barreled into her room, his bright auburn hair catching in the sunlight. As the eleven-year-old heir to the Riverlands, Edmure was too young and too important to join their father on the battlefield – one of the few blessings of this war. His arm was still in a sling from falling out of a tree in the godswood. Catelyn shivered to imagine what would happen to a boy who could be felled by some foliage if he was faced with the Dragon Prince.

"Eddie, your arm! Calm down!" Catelyn had always fussed over him like a mother, even when she was still a child herself.

"I can't!" Edmure said, stomping his foot before turning. "And don't call me that, I'm nearly a man grown!" He added, getting even more agitated. "Oh, but Cat, never mind that now. Listen! Prince Rhaegar is dead!" Edmure panted.

"Eddie, wait. How do you know this?"

"I watch the meetings of the small council since I'm lord while father is away. A message came from the Trident, and then I ran to tell you."

"You ran out in the middle of your small council meeting?"

"Well didn't you want to know? Besides, nothing else they were going to talk about matters now," Edmure said, somewhat defensively.

On the contrary, Catelyn thought, everything was being decided now while their acting lord was in his big sister's room. Were she a man, or a different sort of woman, she might've smacked Edmure across the face and sent him back to lead his council with his ears ringing. But Catelyn could only be who she was, and that was someone who was very glad she still had a brother to run to her.

"Nearly 80,000 men met at the Trident, and Robert Baratheon smashed the Dragon Prince with his war hammer," Edmure continued. "It's so close to here! Think of all the men who will be knighted this day. I could've been one of them if father let me."

"So the war is over?" Catelyn's mind raced trying to understand the implications of this news. "But the Mad King would never yield, would he?"

"No and it doesn't matter anyway. The message said that Robert Baratheon plans to take the Iron Throne for himself. His grandmother was a Targaryen you know, so he's got as good a claim as any I suppose. Father's host is marching with our allies to King's Landing to take the city for King Robert. Oh Cat, please write to father and ask him to find me a place as squire in the army. I might never do anything as exciting as this in my whole entire life. Please Cat?"

Catelyn smiled at her baby brother, but her thoughts were troubled. While Edmure was already calling Robert king, his claim to the throne was weak at best. But if there was anything this war had taught her, it was that strength ruled all, and Robert Baratheon had that in spades.

She took his hand. "Come on, let's go back to the council room together."


	3. Chapter 3

The Battle of the Trident wasn't the end of the war, but it was the beginning of the end. The sack of King's Landing finally brought a peace. Once the blood had been mostly mopped up, Catelyn traveled with her father and brother to the city for King Robert's coronation.

After arriving, the two siblings settled into their quarters while their father attended to some business. As Catelyn was unpacking and half-listening to Edmure's telling of the battle of the Trident battle for the umpteenth time, there was a knock on the door. When she opened the door, Lady Lysa Arryn stood before her.

"Sister, it's been too long," Lysa opened her arms and pressed them coolly around Catelyn's bony shoulders.

"Lysa!" Catelyn started. "We hadn't had word that you'd arrived. Come in, please." Catelyn hadn't seen her sister since her wedding day. It would have been overly generous to say that marriage agreed with Lysa. Her watery blue eyes still had that beady quality, and her skin was the color of parchment. Although Lysa looked so hollowed out by the end of her time at Riverrun that her current state could perhaps be called an improvement.

Lysa's small smile did seem to suggest that she was happy to be reunited with her sister, perhaps especially given the recent change in their relative positions. Catelyn was a childless widow who lived in her father's house. Meanwhile, her younger sister was Lady Paramount of the Vale and the Eyrie, married to a war hero and close personal friend of the new king. And that wasn't all.

"If we had known, we would have of course come to call on you, especially in your condition," Catelyn said, pressing her hand to the small swell of her sister's belly. "How long now?"

"Only a little while. I wanted to tell you when we were all together," Lysa looked away for a moment. "I was thinking…I mean, I wish that mother was here with us too," Lysa whispered the last part as she looked down at her sister's hand. The two sisters stood for a moment, both thinking of other times.

The last few months in that hollowing castle had been miserable for Lysa. When she found herself pregnant by her new husband, all she could think of was her Petyr, who would never want her now. She spent the first week pacing around the castle, imagining what it would be like to throw herself out the Moon Door. When it turned out she didn't have the stomach for that, she began squirreling away milk of the poppy. She planned to kill herself when she had enough.

But midway through the project, the war ended. News reached the Eyrie that Jon Arryn had been named Hand of the King, and Lysa was to accompany him to King's Landing. There was also noise about a young lord, Petyr Baelish. He had somehow managed to distinguish himself in the war, and some speculated he might make his way to the capital to better his fortunes, rather than remain in his minor castle. The thought of seeing Petyr and the sun was enough for Lysa to abandon the plan. And while Lysa resented her sister for many things, Catelyn was the first warm face she'd seen in a year.

Edmure, meanwhile, scarcely remembered their mother and was never one for subtly at any rate.

"It has to be a boy, doesn't it?" He interjected from his perch on an unpacked trunk, his lengthening legs splayed out behind him. "I mean, Maester says in the Vale, only boys inherit."

"Eddie, you'll be the only uncle this child has. Hopefully you'll teach him _or her_ lots of things about this world, like how to properly greet our loved ones," Catelyn said, steering Edmure towards Lysa. Lysa hugged him as well, pinching his cheek harder than strictly speaking was necessary. Edmure never understood his sisters' relationship, except that Lysa often seemed cross at Catelyn for some reason, and Catelyn put up with it for some other reason.

But Catelyn knew her sister. She must be nervous, Catelyn thought as she looked at Lysa. Edmure was right about the inheritance laws of the Vale, and Jon Arryn's heir had died during the war. If he died without a son, it would be the end of the House of Arryn.

"Go play Eddie, we'll talk later," Lysa said pushing him off. "King Robert has named Lord Arryn his Hand of the King," Lysa said to her sister once they were alone.

This was another distinction between Lysa and Catelyn. The Hand of the King was perhaps the most powerful man in Westeros. Yet Lysa didn't look pleased.

"It's an enormous honor. I'm sure he'll serve our new king faithfully," Catelyn said.

"Yes, Lord Arryn is quite fastidious when it comes to those things. 'As high as honor.' I arrived over a week ago. My lord husband greeted me, asked about my health and the baby, and then left me. He did everything that was correct, including barely speaking to me since."

"He's preoccupied. When you have a son I'm sure Lord Arryn will be the most devoted of fathers," Catelyn murmured, trying to read her sister's expression. She patted her sister's shoulder sympathetically.

"You mistake me, sister," Lysa said, looking directly into her sister's eyes. "What is the House of Arryn to me? Lord Arryn will do what he will do. You and I both will do what we must do."

Catelyn looked at her sister, trying to find a trace of the shy girl who made daisy chains for hours in the fields and cried when Edmure fed a mouse to his cat. There was none.

A few days after this unsettling visit, Catelyn, along with the entire court, attended King Robert's coronation.

Robert Baratheon had been at Catelyn's wedding to Ned Stark. At least Catelyn was told so afterwards. For her part, she had vague memories of a big man with his big hand on the shoulder of her bridegroom. The two young men had grown up together under Jon Arryn. But that's where her memories ended. The next time Catelyn would see him, he would be crowned King Robert Baratheon, first of his name, ruler of Westeros.

The war had not gone as anyone had expected, least of all Robert. Along with the Dragon Prince, the Mad King was dead – slayed by young Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard. Also dead was the King's wife, Queen Rhaella. Prince Rhaegar's children and younger brother had escaped across the Narrow Sea to Pentos. Fleeing with the Targaryen children were Princess Elia Martell and Lyanna Stark, Catelyn's onetime sister-in-law. Most shocking of all, Lyanna had given birth to a son by Prince Rhaegar. The boy's name was said to be Bryden, and that in looks he favored his mother. The kingdom was afire with speculation about what had transpired to bring Lyanna and Rhaegar together. But Catelyn didn't think the recent actions of either woman were based on their loyalty to the realm or to a man. Both Elia and Lyanna correctly guessed that their children would be branded enemies of realm and hunted down. Who would protect them if not their mothers?

This all left Robert Baratheon a king, but without the loyalty or possession of the woman he started the war for. Here was the man who had brought an end to three centuries of Targaryen rule, and he couldn't control his betrothed. It was not an auspicious start. But what mattered most to the court was that this sorry state of affairs had left King Robert the most eligible bachelor in Westeros.

The coronation was supposed to be a solemn affair, but Robert was clearly having trouble containing his mirth. He winked and smiled at supporters and friends as the Septon said his holy worlds. Robert was a young conqueror, and he felt his triumph fully – even if it hadn't been fully realized. Catelyn's memory was correct: the king was a man of overwhelming stature. Everything about him was strength: broad shoulders, big hands, and a deep voice. A large gash, not fully healed, marred his left cheek. During the war he had been clean-shaven, but he was growing his black beard now to cover the scars.

After the coronation, Robert sat upon the Iron Throne as the lords of the realm swore fealty to him. He shifted his massive frame in the seat more and more as the day drew on. When it was their turn, Edmure and Catelyn bowed behind their father as he bent the knee before the newly minted king.

"Thank you, Lord Tully. You may rise," King Robert sighed to Catelyn's father, looking weary of the display. "You fought besides me in the field, and invited me into your home. This will never be forgotten. In addition to your historical right over the Riverlands, I name you Master of the Hunt of the Iron Throne. I damn well expect I'll need some hunting after a day such as today."

"Thank you, your Grace." Her father bowed once more, and stood to leave.

"Lady Catelyn," Robert added, more gently now. The Tully family froze in their places. Robert leaned forward and his black eyes focused on her. "I feel the full weight of your loss. I thought of Ned Stark as a brother, and can say without doubt that he was the greatest of men. Please think of me always as your most faithful friend."

"Yes, your Grace," Catelyn said, as the eyes of the entire court fell upon her.


	4. Chapter 4

"It appears the lords aren't done killing," Lysa observed to her sister as they walked through the gardens surrounding the Red Keep. True to Robert's words, the men had set out on a fortnight hunting trip shortly after the coronation.

"Perhaps our king thinks that which brought him to the throne will help keep him there. The men do like a good show," Catlyn noted.

"Or perhaps he doesn't know any different. What does the scorpion say to the frog right after he stings him? 'I couldn't help myself – it's in my nature.'"

Catelyn was silent at that. Lysa's nature was growing ever harder to decipher, even to Lysa herself. Lysa's knew her position was a delicate one. Lysa felt sure Petyr would revive her, but he'd yet to turn up. Meanwhile the child grew inside her, and its meaning terrified her. If the child were a boy, she would be linked forever to the Eyrie as the mother of its next heir. Catelyn's presence complicated things further, yet Lysa was reluctant to push her sister away. She had watched her mother labor and die in childbirth, and despite Lysa's earlier plans she didn't want the same fate to become her. Outside of Petyr, was there anyone who understood her as Catelyn did – even if one big secret lay between them?

"How long will you stay in King's Landing?" Lysa asked, trying to be gentle this time.

"Father wants to go home soon after they return from the hunt," Catelyn replied. "There's a lot of re-building to be done in our lands, and not just with bricks and mortar. Families have been torn apart by this war. And it may not be over. Not all accept Robert as king." Catelyn shuddered again at the devastation her father's friends and foes had brought on her homeland. Perhaps her father did need her help back home. They could rule together, with Catelyn in place of her lady mother.

"And are you anxious to return to Riverrun and break out the plow shears?"

"I wouldn't say that," Catelyn's nose wrinkled as she imagined herself digging in the actual dirt. She may have had sympathy for the smallfolk, but she was a great lady. "There's nothing for me there. Edmure is going to be fostered soon. You'll be here. Uncle Brynden isn't coming home."

"You won't be there long," Lysa said quietly.

"Yes," Catelyn replied, looking away. Her day dreams aside, the truth was that even as a girl Catelyn knew that she was being raised to leave Riverrun behind forever. The war had stopped the clock on that for a time, but now that clock was moving once again.

"Has father spoken to you of his plans? With so many men dead in the war, the pickings are not as we might hope. Some say Lord Tywin's new heir, the imp, is growing into quite the clever cookie." Lysa was trying to be kind, but she couldn't resist the temptation of conjuring up an image of her perfect sister married to a dwarf child. There was a time when it was Lysa herself who was supposed to marry a Lannister lion. Before King Aerys raised Jaime Lannister to the kingsguard, Lysa's father had been pushing for a match between her and Ser Jaime. The thought of what this would have been like had crossed Lysa's mind more than once since she first saw Ser Jaime swooping about the castle in his white cloak.

Her sister's expression of mute horror let Lysa know that she had gone too far. "Oh it needn't be all grim," Lysa added hastily. "How about one of the Tyrell brothers? Or the Pipers, so you could stay closer to home?"

"I can't know my own mind right now. Especially when the choice isn't really mine to make."

"You do need time," Lysa agreed. "And space. Stay with me in my household in King's Landing. The Hand of the King lives quite well you know."

"This is a most excellent duck," Jon Arryn observed between bites, looking at the two sisters dining with him a few days after Catelyn had moved her quarters. "Does it remind you of the fowl in the Riverlands?"

Lord Arryn was an old man, but he wasn't a stupid man. He knew he was not what young ladies dreamed of in a husband. But his thoughts on Lysa were troubled for other reasons. Lord Arryn wanted an heir, of course, but pregnancy had meant death for the two wives he had already buried. While he felt little true fondness for Lysa, he sometimes found himself looking at her with sympathy. It was wrong that someone so young should have her life more at risk than a man at war. For that, and for what he understood his duties as a husband to be, he endeavored to make her as happy as was reasonable.

"I've never thought our birds had a particular taste, my lord," Lysa said. This was typically the extent of their conversations. Mercifully, since Lysa was with child, Lord Arryn hadn't come to her once in the night.

"Lord Arryn, I wanted to thank you again for allowing me to stay with your household," Catelyn said.

"Not at all, Lady Catelyn. It puts my mind at ease to know that Lysa has someone she can so depend on in these times. I should be thanking you." Lord Arryn said, meaning it truly. Catelyn smiled at him. She knew Lysa wasn't a doting wife, but she thought one could really do much worse in marriage than Jon Arryn. She had once observed as much to Lysa, who asked if she would like to be married to him instead. They had never spoken of it again.

"Now that I have you here, I've been meaning to ask you ladies for some advice. What do you think of Lord Petyr Baelish?" Jon Arryn said, addressing the table.

Lysa was in the middle of a bite of that damned duck and thought she might choke. Did he know? But it wasn't possible, she reminded herself. Her own sister didn't know. Yet her husband, for all his other failings, was a clever man. Had he it guessed it somehow?

No one else at the table seemed to notice her distress.

"Why do you ask Lord Arryn?" Catelyn said simply.

"Well, he was your father's ward, was he not? I've had a letter from one of my bannermen. I wrote him asking for advice about bringing an aide to the capital. You can't trust any of these people, which is one thing. But on top of it they've got no head for numbers or politics, which is unpardonable. He said the young Lord Baelish had quite distinguished himself in his service and suggested I invite him here."

"Petyr Baelish is among the brightest men of our time," Lysa barely trusted herself to speak, but she couldn't restrain herself.

"Hmm, yes, well. He challenged Brandon Stark for your sister's hand, or so I've heard. A great warrior against a green boy! He doesn't seem to be the most sensible sort of young man."

"My lord's own fosterling sons challenged a sitting king for the Iron Throne on account of a woman," Lysa felt she was almost shaking with rage, and gripped the side of the table to steady herself. "Do you hold that against them as well? Sometimes young men don't act sensibly for women, but they learn from those mistakes."

"I suppose that's quite right my dear," Jon Arryn said mildly. He had never seen Lysa so emotive. He wasn't sure he particularly liked it. "Still, I imagine your lord father wasn't too pleased by such a turn of events that could upset such a carefully arranged match. Do you think Lord Tully would be offended terribly if I extended the invitation?"

"Father isn't staying in the capital," Lysa said, as if speaking the words aloud could make them true.

"No, Lord Arryn, father has nothing but affection for his former ward," Catelyn interjected, trying to cut the tension. "Everything will be fine if you invite him."

"Good, then it's settled. Lord Baelish will arrive shortly. The more Valemen, the better I suppose. Now, more duck?"


	5. Chapter 5

A few days after the intensity of that dinner, the first true spring day arrived at King's Landing. The king and their father had just arrived back from the hunt, greatly increasing the amount of commotion in the castle. Lysa and Catelyn, hoping for some peace, escaped to stroll the grounds of the castle. They could hear the shouts of two boys as they got nearer to an open field.

"Sisters! I can't talk. Renly and I are engaged in single combat until one of us yields." Edmure shouted as he swung his wooden sword around for another blow. Renly Baratheon, however, stepped back and put his hand up. Renly was roughly Edmure's age, but already a handsome and tall youth. Edmure looked like a red faced, stocky boy next to him.

"My ladies forgive us," Renly said, bowing. "Lord Edmure, shall we ask the ladies for their favors?"

"Huh?" Edmure said, catching his breath. He scratched his head with his non-sword hand. "Renly, they're just my sisters," he said, waving his hand vaguely in their direction. "There are no favors on the battlefield. Let's get back to it!" Renly shrugged apologetically at the ladies, flashing a perfect smile before he picked up his sword again.

Edmure probably shouldn't be lecturing Renly on the realities of war, Lysa thought. During Robert's war, Renly had spent months locked up in the castle at Storm's End while the Tyrell army laid siege to it. It was said they survived by eating every dog, cat, rat, and horse in the castle – and maybe more. Not that this seemed to have a lasting effect on Renly, who was taking quite easily to life at court. Perhaps all that deprivation had given him a greater appreciation for the fruits of peace.

"We were to begin our lessons an hour ago, but it seems the good maester has once again discovered his taste for Dornish wine." A voice called out from behind them. "Each time the maester drinks, it is as if it's his first. We should all be so lucky." The sisters turned towards a young man whose voice made him out to be older than Edmure, but with a strange, small stature. He held a book in his hands and leaned against a tree a few feet away.

"My ladies, Tyrion Lannister at your service," he said bowing slightly. "Please share the shade if you wish," he added, gesturing next to him. His voice cracked on this last part, and he looked down as he shuffled his feet.

"We know your father of course," Lysa said as the sisters curtsied. "Our fathers fought together in the War of the Ninepenny King."

"Everyone knows my father of course," Tyrion said as the sisters sat next to him. Catelyn remembered her conversation with Lysa in the gardens about Lord Twyin's heir and felt somewhat chastised. Tyrion Lannister was not the monster he was rumored to be, nor the child she imagined. He was nearly her age. His quick eyes seemed to take everything in at once, although he looked away and colored when their eyes met.

"How is your book?" Catelyn asked. "Edmure doesn't read much, but recently was telling me about tales of a knight named Dunk that seemed to have grabbed his attention."

"Oh yes, I gave him that book," Tyrion said, brightening as the conversation took this turn. "It's quite thrilling, you ladies may even enjoy it as well. Not that I presume to know your taste," he stammered quickly.

"But this," he went on, tapping the book in his hand, "is a particular favorite of mine." He held the book out tentatively to Catelyn, who took it. Lysa read over her shoulder.

"It's not in the common tongue," Lysa said. "What is it, High Valyrian? But how do you understand it? Does the maester read it to you?"

"No, I read it myself," Tyrion said, looking confused at their expressions. "Oh, it's not so hard to understand really," Tyrion went on, taking the book and opening it. "You probably know many of the words from the songs already. Here let me show you."

A commotion on the pitch interrupted their conversation. "It's not just about how hard you land your blows, Ed." Renly taunted Edmure. "Real knights have a sense of style about it." Renly spun his sword over his head like a horizontal windmill before bringing the wooden blade down.

Lysa frowned. Edmure was doing it correctly, she thought. Real steel was much heavier than play swords. Most men, especially new knights, would never be able to spin it above their heads like a toy disc. The master at arms of Riverrun wouldn't let Edmure learn habits he couldn't use in a real fight. Lysa wondered where Renly got these notions. She almost laughed imagining Stannis Bartheon, the middle Baratheon brother and Renly's dour guardian, spinning around like this.

Renly's showy blow came down forcefully on Edmure's sword, splitting it in two. For a moment, the two boys stood frozen, with Edmure holding the stub of his former sword. Renly recovered himself and raised his sword, about to bring it down again, forcing Edmure to yield. Edmure's eyes darted around frantically, resting on Renly's exposed trunk. With one swift movement, Edmure dropped his sword and punched Renly squarely in the gut.

Renly staggered backwards, coughing and falling to his knees. Edmure gave himself a congratulatory smile, and was about to extend his hand to Renly when the taller boy spit on the ground.

"You fat little rat!" Renly shouted. "There's no point if you do it like that. I'll get you for this." He lunged at Edmure, who side stepped him before turning and sprinting back to the castle. Lysa couldn't help but smile. Her brother would never be a scholar, but he had the good sense to know when to stand his ground and when to turn tail. Renly got to his feet, scowling at the grass stains on his clothes, and picked up after Edmure. He ran right past the ladies, allowing Lysa the opportunity to extend her foot ever so slightly into his path. This sent the young lord tumbling once again, sliding headlong into a pile of what was hopefully mud.

"Always make sure to watch your footing my lord," Tyrion said, his eyes smiling. Renly, shocked at this turn of events, suddenly looked as if he might cry. Recovering himself, he instead smiled once more.

"Forgive me ladies, it seems that I must change my clothes to be fit for your company," he said, bowing regally as the mud dripped off him. He turned and sauntered off.

"Well, the new Lord Paramount of the Stormlands certainly seems better at keeping his good humor than his current guardian," Tyrion said to the ladies.

"What do you mean, Lord Paramout? Stannis is set to inherit King Robert's old titles now that Robert is king." Catelyn said.

"It appears not. King Robert will name Renly as Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands in place of Stannis," Lysa joined in. She had heard Lord Arryn speaking about this, and it seemed the word had gotten out.

"But that's not right," Catelyn sputtered indignantly. "Renly is just a boy, and besides the younger brother can't inherit before the elder. Even a king must respect custom." Lysa refrained from rolling her eyes. What was it to Catelyn what happen to the Stormlands?

"A king can do as he pleases," Tyrion said. "It might be hard for you to believe, Lady Catelyn, but there's not always such a strong family feeling between siblings as there is between you and your lady sister," Lysa was startled by his words and looked at him more closely. Of course Tyrion knew something of what is was like to be overshadowed by a more esteemed sibling.

"Is he boring you, ladies?" Cersei Lannister's even voice rang out behind them. "Tyrion isn't there some sort of horrid school lesson you need to be working on?"

"Always," Tyrion said coloring slightly as he took his leave.

"I must apologize for my brother," Cersei said, taking her brother's place. "He's spent so little time out in the world, I'm afraid he has no fit company for anyone."

"Not at all," Catelyn's face twisted slightly. She looked as if she was about to go on when Cersei started again.

"But I am so glad I've run across you. There are only a few other young ladies of our station here, and we don't see nearly enough of each other. We can't be relying on the wives and daughters of stewards for company, can we? Now I've been in a tizzy all day. Tell me, Lady Arryn, what are you planning on wearing tonight? As the highest among us, I look to you to set our style."

"Tonight?" Catelyn and Lysa asked practically at once.

"Well yes, of course. Tonight when we dine with the king."


End file.
